


I Am No Princess

by Carohas



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:42:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3378572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carohas/pseuds/Carohas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Jaha is a power hungry man, who wants to expand his borders but needs peace within them first. As the beloved daughter of a rebellious but respected countryman and his wife, a healer, Clarke is taken hostage and given to Bellamy Blake, Jaha’s adopted son, who understands Clarke’s position all too well. <br/>Thus, Clarke becomes leverage in a war neither of them want to fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am No Princess

"I am  _not_  some Princess to be coddled and protected every minute of the day!”  
"That’s where you’re wrong, Princess. That’s exactly what you are." Clarke tried not to stomp her feet as that _scoundrel_  locked the door behind him. She was not a Princess, not really. She was merely the daughter of a respected man, and a reputable healer, neither of whom had she seen in months.  
Raiders were common, and during the last battle she’d been taken captive and locked in this tower, out of sight of the people and out of contact with anyone except the man who brought her food everyday. She was embarrassed to think that he was also the one who took her chamber pot.   
To stave off the boredom, and potential depression, she had taken to drawing on the walls of her prison with soot from the fire. She captured the image of the setting sun’s light on the trees in the distance, the buildings that surrounded the keep, she even drew her captor. She never wanted to forget his face. 

"Great news, Princess, we’ve come to an agreement."  
"Oh really?" She said as she stood up from her chair in the corner, "and what would that be?"  
"We’re getting married."  
"You can’t be serious."  
"Oh, I am  _deathly_  serious.” Clarke shut her mouth as she realised the implications of his words and chose her next ones carefully.  
"And who agreed to this?"  
"Your mother."  
"What about my father?"  
"He’s dead."  
"He," she choked down a sob, "he’s dead?"  
"Yes. So now we’re to marry and rule together. Put an end to the suffering of both our peoples."  
” _Rule? Together?_  I could never do that with the people who killed my  _father!_  I demand to be released, immediately! Send me back to my people, so I can bury my father in peace.”  
"Sorry, Princess, but your father has apparently been dead for some time now. It would appear that you are too late." He paused before he added, "I suggest you consider your decision carefully," and left the room. Leaving her to, finally, break down in peace. 

It’s three days of utter silence within her walls as he awaits her answer. On the third day she quietly says to him “I accept.” And he leaves as silently as he arrived, merely nodding his head in response.   
The next day her mother arrives with an army and her friends, and she is finally moved from the tower to some lavish chambers she has to share with two women she is told will be her ladies-in-waiting. Raven and Octavia. One from each group so as to avoid any politicisation of the issue. They both seem nice but she doesn’t care; her father is dead and she’s about to marry his murderer.   
"Clarke. Clarke." She looks up to see her mother trying to get her attention. "Clarke? Are you okay, honey?"  
"Mother, what happened? Father was supposed to be safe, far away, how did he die?"  
"I can’t tell you, dearest. Some guards found him in the woods. It looked as if he and his guard had been ambushed. Beyond that, I can’t be certain."  
"Who were the guards?"  
"I didn’t notice."  
"Please, find out for my mother, I need to know."  
"What good will it-"  
"Mother,  _please_ ,” Clarke begged.   
With a reluctant sigh she replied, “I’ll try.” 

"Princess, your betrothed is here to see you." She heard Octavia’s voice from her solar drift into her bedroom.   
"You mean your brother and my captor?" As angry as she was with the situation, she got up from her restful position on the bed and started smoothing out her skirts. She had to face him some time.   
"He didn’t-"  
"It doesn’t matter," she interrupted, joining her in the solar, "let him in."  
"My lady," he said with a bow.  
"So now you are filled with pleasantries. If only those had been present in the past few months."  
"Princess, please, we both have to deal with this. Please let us do so amicably."  
She gave him a sideways glance, and eventually nodded.  
He let out a small sigh of relief before asked, “would you please allow me to give you a tour of the castle?”  
"You may," she said as she gave him her arm. Finally she was going to see the place she was soon to call home, the place she’d been held captive in for months now. 

They wound down the stairs together, in silence, soon making it to the foot of the staircase and into the Great Hall. It was finely decorated with tapestries and embroidery her mother would scold her for being unable to replicate, and there was a steady stream of people walking through and around the room.   
"Please, this way, Princess." He guided her to the door, around a few corners and eventually to the courtyard.   
Before he could speak again, she opened her mouth and asked the question that had been plaguing her. “What  _is_  your name, Sir?”  
"My name is Bellamy Blake, I am my King’s Champion and adopted son. This is one of his holdings. It is to be our home once we are wed." She surveyed the courtyard, taking in the grim appearance and wishing for a garden or a tree or even a small flower to bring life to this place.  
"And when is it that I am scheduled to marry the leader of the people responsible for the deaths of my own, including my father?"  
He turned to her, an angry glint in his eye. It was easy to believe him capable of murder. “Princess, I am getting very tired of having to defend myself against you every second of the day. I did not kill your father, I was not responsible for that, nor were any of my men. I suggest you talk to your mother about that, because I had nothing to do with it, and can add no more to your tale of woe.” Having said his piece, he stalked off in the opposite direction, leaving her to make her own way back to her chambers.   
She took her time, exploring the castle and walking amongst the people who kept it alive. She found herself in the kitchen, where a sullen lady spat at her before Octavia came to her rescue. “Her brother was killed in the last battle. It isn’t safe for you to walk around by yourself, milady.”  
"If I’m to live here, I need to know my way around. I need to know the people who will be serving me."  
"Now that is an attitude not often found in a princess."  
"I’m no princess."  
"So it would seem." Octavia seemed to regard her for a second before adding, "nonetheless, we must get you to safety. The King would have our heads were anything to happen to you."

After her discussion with her betrothed, she couldn’t help but wonder what he’d meant when he mentioned her mother. _Did she have something to do with it? Of course not. She loved her father. Their marriage is what had given her hope for her own love match._ She sighed as she remembered that vain hope. His indignant attitude had given his voice some credibility, and her brain was walking itself in circles trying to figure it out. Looking up at Raven and Octavia, who were both doing some embroidery, she remembered Raven’s recent marriage, and his position within their own town.  
"Octavia, could you please go ask the kitchen to bring me some food?"  
"Of course, milady," she said with a small curtsey as she left, leaving her with Raven, alone.   
"Raven, your husband is a part of our guard, is he not?"  
"He is, milady."  
"Good, I have a request for you.  
"Anything."  
"I need to find out what really happened to my father. Before you say anything, please consider that in a few days I will be marrying his potential murderers and would like to know where we stand. Ask your husband if he knows anything more, if he knows anything about what really happened and who took him back home."  
"Of course, milady." She bent her head back to her work, and Clarke gave a short smile, glad to be on the path to the truth.

With Octavia gone, and her door now open to her, she realised she had the perfect opportunity to do some more exploring. Hopefully more successfully this time. Ordering Raven to stay behind and cover for her if need be, she slipped out, and began what turned out to be a circuit of the upper floors. She was just starting to realise that the castle was one big rectangle when she saw Bellamy leaving his chambers, and had no where to run. She watched the shock pass over his face as he saw her, and then a small amount of, was that, concern on his face?  
"Princess, what are you doing here?"  
"Exploring my new home."  
"You are aware of the dangers of wandering a foreign castle, filled with the enemy, as you put it."  
"I am."  
"And still you persist."  
"I’m not easily dissuaded."  
"I’m learning that."  
"For example, I would greatly appreciate it if you would tell me what you know of my father’s death. It seems that you have a few pieces of this puzzle I am missing."  
Bellamy sighed as he realised his impossible situation. “Princess, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll tell you the little I know if you promise only to leave your room with an escort until we are married.”  
"I accept your condition."  
"Princess, I want your word. Your promise."  
"Fine, I promise not to leave my chambers without an escort until we are wed. You have my word."  
"Good, this way," he said as he gestured to the door he’d just exited. "This is not a discussion for an open hallway."

His chambers were much the same as her own, grey and lifeless. There was little by way of decoration, but thankfully he was not the type to leave swords and body-less animals on display.   
He directed her to a seat, pulling it away from the table for her before seating himself directly opposite.   
"What is it you would like to know, Princess?"  
"Whatever it is that you know. Why did you mention my mother?"  
"Princess, you’re not going to like what I have to say."  
"Tell me anyway."  
He searched her face, and upon finding no hint of a lie or reluctance, he began to tell her. “All I know is this, we were at war, my King wanted peace, wanted our marriage and the resulting alliance, but your father opposed it. Then all of a sudden your father is dead, and your mother has agreed to the terms laid out.”  
"So you killed him!"  
"Princess, you are mistaking me for someone who  _wants_  to marry a willful stranger, and will do anything to make it so. I am simply the unfortunate soul who now has to deal with you for the rest of his life because his position dictates it.”  
Clarke looks at him with new eyes, his bout of honesty bringing on a new wave of understanding. “So you… don’t want this?”  
"I’m sorry, Princess. I didn’t mean it like that. I simply want you to understand that we are in much the same position, you and I."  
She nodded as a new question dawned on her. “How did you become the King’s adopted son?”  
"It’s a long story, Princess."  
"We have all the time in the world."  
"Indeed. My story is much the same as yours, I was from a small town, and Jaha was not the King we know him as today, but rather the lord of this castle. He was fearsome in battle, and his army overran our small town in a matter of minutes. Those of us who survived came here as servants, but Jaha saw me trying to defend my sister against two of his men, admired my blind courage, and started training me. I’ve been proving myself ever since." He looked up at her as he added, "you know, it’s not as easy as you seem to think. All of this could be taken away from me instantly, and then what would happen to Octavia and I?"  
"But surely if you’ve-"  
"Princess, the King is a ruthless man. It’s how he  _became_  King. Surely you understand that.”  
"I suppose I do."  
"Then you know that we, neither of us, have any choice but to go through with the wedding in three days."  
"So that’s all the time we have." Regarding him for a moment she considers her options before posing a question. "In that case, might we get to know each other a little better in the coming days?"  
His eyes go wide and his eyebrows lift as he comprehends her, and responds affirmatively. “I’ll come to your chambers tomorrow afternoon.” He stands and moves to help her out of her chair.   
"Thank you." She takes his offered arm and he escorts her back to her room, where her ladies are waiting impatiently, and more than a little concerned for her. Their surprise is evident when they realise it is her betrothed she has been spending time with, and Octavia is obviously delighted by it. 

She sees her mother the next morning, and is left in tears as the horrible truth dawns on her. Her mother got her father killed. She’s full of excuses, “reasons” she calls them, and most of them centre around her and their people not dying.  
"You betrayed him! You betrayed  _me_! How could you do it?”  
"You know how, Clarke, Jaha would’ve ended us all, and your father would’ve let it happen!"  
"He would’ve found another way!"  
"No, he wouldn’t have, Clarke! This way, everyone is alive and safe."  
"Everyone except him!" The tears streaming down her face blur her vision as she screams, "get out!  _Get out!!”_  As she hears the wooden door swing shut she flies to her bed and lands amongst the pillows she wishes would just swallow her whole so she could forget this nightmare. 

 

"We need scouts out in the forest, along the road, and of course I want men stationed along the wall. The wedding will be-" Bellamy stops as he hears his name on his sister’s lips, and turns to see her running toward him. He tells Miller, "we’ll finish this discussion later. Organise what we’ve discussed so far in the mean time."  Octavia makes it to him just as Miller walks away. "What’s the matter, O?"  
"It’s Clarke, there’s something wrong, we left her with her mother this morning and now she’s unresponsive. She’s catatonic, Bell."   
"And she saw her mother this morning?"  
"Yes, Raven and I thought they were going over some of the arrangements for the wedding, so we left them there, we didn’t think-"  
"It’s going to be fine, thank you for coming to me. Don’t worry about it, I’ll sort it out."

_She saw her mother, and now she’s upset. Her mother must have had something to do with it. Shit._ It’s a cyclic thought process that continues right up until he knocks on her door and gets no reply. “Princess?” He nudges the door open slowly, trying to alert her to his presence, lest she be surprised. He spots her on the bed, sprawled out and her body quivering, from cold, tears or fatigue he doesn’t know, but he’s going to find out. 

She feels the bed dip on the other side, and his voice a little louder than a whisper as he says her name, or rather, the title she’s about to inherit. “Princess, what’s happened?”  
She turns toward him, and tries to respond, but the thought of it only makes her cry harder. Eventually, between heaving sobs, she manages to tell him of her mother’s complicity in the death of her father, and he simply listens, holding her when she needs comfort and eventually letting her go as the sobs subside.   
"How can I help you?"  
"Please, just keep her away. I can’t see her."  
"I’ll do my best. In the meantime, get some rest. I’ll try see you tomorrow." She nods as he tucks her into bed and leaves as quietly as possible, off to find some guards to remove the mother of his soon-to-be-wife. 

_The King is coming_  is the whisper through the town. Of course he was coming, the alliance of his making was about to go through, there was no way he’d miss it. He rode astride a beautiful black mare that came to a stop mere metres from Bellamy’s position. “Good afternoon, Bellamy!” Jaha jumped off his horse and clapped Bellamy on the back.   
"Good afternoon, your highness."  
"Bellamy, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Jaha? We’re family, you and I, and family certainly does not go by titles."  
"Yes, Sir." He said with a cheeky smile that Jaha soon reciprocated.   
"So, son, take me to my chambers and we shall discuss business."

As soon as they were behind closed doors the facade was dropped and the argument began.   
"What do you think you’re doing, sending Abby Griffin away from her own daughter’s wedding?!"  
"I was thinking that my blushing bride doesn’t want to see her at the minute, and it was better that our relationship start well, than mine and her mother’s."  
"That may be, but it isn’t as simple as all that is it?"  
"It never is." His snarky reply only served to get him a glare as Jaha continued.  
"This is a political marriage, Bellamy. We need her people to see us as united, so the fighting can stop and we can live in peace. That won’t happen if her mother isn’t present. All your wedding will serve to do is enrage them further, their precious princess forced to bend the knee to their enemy and enter into marriage with one of them. You can see why I’ve brought her back, can’t you?"  
"You what? Where is she?"  
"She’s staying with her daughter, presenting a united front."  
"You should’ve talked to me about this."  
"I’m talking to you now. You should be glad, less fighting, more time at home with your sister."  
"Yes, your majesty," is the only reply he can muster as he leaves the room, hoping to make it to the Princess before her mother, to warn her. 

He doesn’t succeed. He doesn’t even need to see her to know that he’s failed her. The atmosphere in her chambers is icy cold, Raven and Octavia have both sent him awkward glances and, as he looks toward her bed, he can see her steadfastly refusing to look at her mother.   
"Princess, I’ve come to collect you for our daily walk," he smoothly lies.   
She’s quick to pick up on the deceit and quickly responds affirmatively, ignoring her mother’s pleas to stay as the leave, arm in arm. 

"Thank you, you didn’t have to do that," she said as they rounded the last corner in the stairwell.  
"I know, but it’s the least I could do after I failed to keep her from you. It was Jaha, he’s here and he’s worried about appearances," he offered by way of explanation.  
"Of course he is."  
"She’s staying there, I can’t help it."  
"I can survive one night."  
"One night," he mulled over the words, thinking of all the implications that came along with it. "One night until we’re married and this is your home."  
"It doesn’t feel very homely," she said, looking out across the courtyard to the stables, the guards quarters and the market. "It’s all so grey, so dirty. My town was green and lively, always people around, smiling. The flowers behind our house would bloom each year, just before spring when the lambing would begin."  
"It’s quite a different life you’ll be starting with me."  
"Yes. But I’m ready. We can do this." Her smile gave him hope, as small and tight as it was. Hope for their future together, hope that they would succeed at peace and manage to live a happy life in this dreary castle.

"Clarke, it’s time to wake up. You’ve a wedding to prepare for." It’s her mother’s voice that wakes her up, instructing her to get out of bed and prepare herself for the biggest day of her life. She does it, reluctantly, and lets herself be pampered and fussed over by the three of them. By the end of it, she is actually happy with it. Her light blue dress sits just below her shoulder, exposing them to the world and causing her to feel very bare as her hair has been put in several braids that twist into each other and are carefully pinned back. She’s never looked so well put together, she thinks. She’s ready. 

The hall is filled with people, some of whom she recognises as being servants in the castle, and a few she realises have travelled from their hometown to witness this themselves. It’s Bellamy she sees standing at the altar with the King by his side, and a priest to his left.   
She’s hardly listening to the priest drone on as he outlines all the ways in which she will submit to her husband. It’s repulsive, but she’s starting to realise that maybe her husband isn’t. With his hair pushed back for once, she feels she can truly see his face for the first time, and it isn’t unappealing. She’s getting so lost  in her frank appraisal of him she almost misses her queue to agree to the whole thing. “I will.”  
"And do you, Prince Bellamy Blake, take Lady Clarke Griffin to wife?"  
"I will."  
"Then by the power vested in me by our Lord God, and our King Thelonius Jaha, I now pronounce you lawfully wed." A polite round of applause sounded as he quickly and lightly brought his lips to hers for a quick second, then turned to the crowd, arms raised in celebration as food was brought out for the feast.

It was the longest meal of her life, sitting next to the husband she barely knew and the mother she didn’t recognise anymore. Her smile waned as the night grew on, and her shoes chaffed her feet as they danced, until finally,  _finally,_  it was time for them to retire. All of a sudden the guests were a bawdy lot, making obscene gestures and suggestions as Bellamy lead her to their new chambers. 

Her mind was a flutter with thoughts of what was expected now. Should she undress? Turn her back? Let him do it?   
In the end she decided to behave as she would any other night, for the most part. Sitting on the edge of their bed she pulled her hair out, letting it tumble down her back in a pile of messy curls as she undid plaits and pulled pins. Completely unaware of the effect she was having on her new husband, she went to him and turned her back, waiting for him to undo the laces as tradition seemed to dictate. She had to be patient, thankfully it seemed that he was new to this, and his fingers fumbled with the strings as he swore under his breathe. “How do you ladies do this every night?”  
"Practice."  
A moment later, he finally had them undone, and she stepped out of her dress, revealing the white linen shift beneath, as she walked to their bed and hopped on top. “Aren’t you going to join me?”  
"I’m not sure I should."  
"Why shouldn’t you, oh husband of mine?"  
He gulped as he replied, trying not to look too closely, lest he get caught up in the image of his beautiful  _young_  bride sitting on their bed and asking him to join her. “Honestly?”  
"Honesty is the one thing I truly expect in this marriage, Bellamy." His eyes quickly find her’s again, making her feel conspicuous. "What?"  
"That’s the first time you’ve said my name." His focus is solely on her now, for better or worse.   
"So? You’ve not said mine once."  
"Clarke." His voice breaks over her name, like a roll of thunder barely audible in the distance, and then he’s striding toward her, sitting at her feet as she stares at him, wide eyed. "Clarke."  
"Bellamy."  
"I don’t want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, Princess."  
"I’ll tell you if something’s wrong."  
Nodding, he starts to move up her body, his hand running a trail up her leg, over her stomach and up to her chin as he kisses her with a restrained passion that he feels has been building up his whole life.   
She doesn’t stop him, not once. She pulls him on top of her as she lays down, and lifts her arms for him to take her shift off. She helps him undress and by the time they have consummated their marriage she’s a writhing wreck on their bed, and he’s an exhausted shell of a man. 

When he wakes up the next morning it’s with the unfamiliar weight of a blonde head on his chest and a leg wrapped around his. He thanks God she thought to pull a blanket over them as a servant brings them food and lights the fire; the sight of their naked bodies is something he wants only to share with her.   
"Good morning, Princess," he murmurs into her hair as he kisses her head.   
Her voice rasps as she replies, “I guess I really am a Princess now.”  
"That you are. But you were a Princess of the people long before you had the title."  
"Mmm…" she nestled into him further, wrapping an arm across his chest and moving her leg up a little.  
"Jesus!"  
"What?" She lifted her head a little, her hair tickling his chest as she looked around the room to see what could have caused the commotion.  
"Be careful where you put that thing!"  
"Oh,  _oooh.”_ She looked at him sheepishly as she finally understood. “Sorry.” She lay her head back down on his chest and moved her leg as he breathed a  sigh of relief that quickly turned to surprise as her hand moved southward as well.  
"What are you-" his question was interrupted by his own intake of breath as he realised they both knew exactly what she was doing. "Clarke," he let out a strangled plea. "Clarke, that-" his hand fisted in the blankets next to him as hers did something similar.   
Soon enough her lips were added into the mix, and Bellamy just about lost it. “Clarke, Clarke, stop,” he said between heaving breaths.   
She lifted her head to look at him, a concerned look on her face. “Did I do something wrong?”   
She was too much. The look of innocent heartbreak on her face almost broke him. “No, not at all. Come here,” he instructed as he pulled her back up to him. “Clarke, I just don’t want you to miss out, and if you were to continue, that’s exactly what would happen.”  
"So I didn’t do anything wrong?"  
"You," he kissed her lips tenderly, "are perfect. Now, let me."  
He flipped her on her back, and soon his name was the only word on her lips, the only thought across her mind as she came apart in his arms, and fell asleep there, feeling warm, safe and protected.   
It was a good start to a political marriage. 

She was working in their garden when she felt his arms snake around her waist. “You shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not right.”  
"Because I’m a woman, Princess, or pregnant?"  
"Because you’re my  _wife_  and I don’t want anything to happen to you or our little one.”  
"Bellamy," she said in that soft tone of voice she used on him when she was determined to have her way. "A bit of gardening is hardly going to kill me. Or our baby. Besides," she said as she moved from his arms and looked around at all the hard work she’d done, "I want our children to know something about where I’m from. And seeing as we can’t  _go_  there, I thought I’d bring some of it here.”  
"Is there anything I can do to stop this?"  
"Short of tying me up and locking me in a tower?" She teased.  
He raised an eyebrow at her, well aware of the situation she was referring to. “Well I have been known to lock a beautiful Princess in a tower on the odd occasion. I think I could have a bit more fun with it this time though.”  
She turned around quickly and punched him on the arm, “you wouldn’t dare!”  
He laughed, mockingly rubbing his arm before admitting the truth, “you’re right. But I’m serious about being careful with yourself, Clarke. Please.”  
As much as she loved being outdoors, one look at her husbands broken face and she couldn’t deny him anything that might bring him comfort. “I’ll be careful.” She brought her arms around him, leaning awkwardly over her belly to reach her head to his chest. “I still want this garden done though.”  
"I’ll get Miller to-"  
"No you will not! He’ll ruin everything. Get Monty. He has a gentle touch."  
Bellamy pulled away and peered down at her, “a gentle touch aye?”  
"You know what I mean," she said with a nudge.   
"Come on, it’s getting cold, time to go inside."  
"Yes, Sir." He put his arm around her shoulders as they walked back to the Castle, to their home. Three years ago, when he’d been handed a hostage and told to look after her, treat her well, he’d never imagined that they’d end up married, let alone happily. Their political union had turned to love somewhere down the line, and had put a stop to the fighting between their two people.   
He never could have chosen himself a more intelligent, wise or fair wife, and for that, he thanked his lucky stars. She was his moon lighting the night sky, his North Star guiding him home, the sun of his life. He couldn’t fathom a life without her, and he prayed he never would.


End file.
